


Love Letters & First Kisses

by vampire_lxser



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Love Letters, M/M, Pining, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Watford (Simon Snow), Watford Seventh Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:08:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29453565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampire_lxser/pseuds/vampire_lxser
Summary: Dear Snow,Valentine's Day is my least favourite of the holidays- it's always seemed to me that its only purpose was to guilt-trip couples into buying each other flowers or to encourage bored, lonely people (such as myself) to confess to their most beloved. It's an idiotic celebration.And yet, I find myself yearning to celebrate it- if only it meant you would allow me the pleasure of doing it with you.-Just a cute little one-shot for Valentine's Day (which, ironically, like Baz, is also my least favourite holiday). Happy Valentine's Day nonetheless! :)
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	Love Letters & First Kisses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheyIs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyIs/gifts).



> For TheyIs, simply because they continuously support my writing and I wish them a very nice Valentine's Day :)
> 
> I wanted to write this because I tend to write a lot more angst than I do fluff and wanted to step outside of my usual comfort zone (if you've read my stuff before it is painfully obvious how much I love angst). And I thought, what's better than a cheesy Valentine's Day fic to do the job? So, here we are. I hope you enjoy, and please consider leaving kudos, bookmarks, and comments if you like the fic!

BAZ

Whoever came up with the idea of Valentine’s Day must have been depraved. Or a fucking sadist.

It’s an agonising event for me each year- being surrounded by a bunch of _happy_ people in perfectly _happy_ and _loving_ relationships doesn’t usually make me feel any better about my own situation. I also have to watch the living spectacle that is Simon Snow stuttering and fumbling as he attempts to gift Agatha Wellbelove chocolates and flowers that I’d bet he needed help picking out.

I’m leaning against a tree on the Great Lawn when it happens. Poor Wellbelove had been peacefully seated in the shade, reading none other than Pride & Prejudice (at least she has good taste in literature) when Snow decides it’s a brilliant idea to interrupt her. 

“I got you these, um… I got you some gifts, since- well it’s Valentine’s Day...,” he clears his throat. I’m already getting second-hand embarrassment just from witnessing the exchange.

I’m glad my vampirism heightens my senses- it’s the only _good_ thing about it, anyway. It allows me to listen in on Snow’s flustered blubbering from right where I am, just far away enough to observe the scene unfolding in front of me without being noticed. It’s a blessing and a curse.

His face is bright red and blotchy, which is, admittedly, a remarkable look on him. 

I see Wellbelove put down her book (I wonder what scene was just ruined for her?) and look at him, her eyes moving to the bouquet of roses and heart-shaped box presented to her. She does smile, albeit it teetering on the edge of pity rather than gratitude. I suspect that Wellbelove and I share similar opinions when it comes to Valentine’s Day and that she doesn’t find the whole thing very charming, though I think if Snow came to me with those gifts, there would be a stark difference in our reactions. Still, at least she seems flattered.

It’s like a car crash- you don’t want to watch it, and yet, it’s impossible to look away.

She takes the box and the roses, then sets them beside her next to her book. “Thank you, Simon,” she says. Snow is fidgeting with his hands. Wellbelove frowns a little (I almost don’t notice). “I didn’t get you anything.” 

This confirms what I’d been thinking, then. She doesn’t find the holiday amusing, but for different reasons than mine. I don’t think she minds so much the PDA and the gift-giving. Rather, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d forgotten today was Valentine’s Day _altogether_. 

Snow offers a nervous chuckle and shakes his head. “No, that’s- that’s alright, Ags, I just- I thought- um,” he scratches the back of his neck and pulls a few curls.

_Use your words, Simon._

He takes a deep breath. “I thought you’d like the gifts,” he eventually gets out. “Penny said you’d want to maybe do something for Valentime’s, so,” he bites his lip. Wellbelove’s face twists at the mention of Penelope Bunce. _That was the wrong thing to say._

It doesn’t surprise me that Snow _still_ says ‘ _Valentime’s_ ’ instead of ‘ _Valentine’s_ ’. If it were anyone else, I would have found it to be incredibly irritating.

And now Wellbelove is shifting in discomfort- Snow clearly has absolutely no grasp at all of the situation. The whole interaction is exceedingly painful to watch. I could turn away and mind my own business like any respectable person should do, but I don’t. I’m unable to.

“Actually, Simon, I was hoping maybe today I’d just take a little break, you know? Self-love and all that,” she says, and I see her reach for her book again. 

_What a trainwreck._

Snow looks like he might say something, but he stops himself before any words escape him. A beat of silence. Then, “Okay.”

I almost feel bad for him.

When he leaves her, he heads towards me. 

I nearly panic when he starts to walk my way. I thought he would have either stayed with Wellbelove or gone off to seek Bunce somewhere on the Great Lawn. I can only hope it isn’t too obvious that I’d been watching them for the past several minutes.

As Snow walks by me, our eyes meet. I smirk at him tauntingly. He scowls at me, but continues to walk. He’s still flustered profusely. It does things to my brain. My eyes follow him as he goes off.

Despite the entertainment I get from being an onlooker of Simon Snow’s disastrous antics, seeing him and Wellbelove act like a couple always stings, even if Agatha isn’t the Valentine’s Day type. Sometimes I’ll see them kissing in the halls or holding hands after classes. I always have to look away.

-

I don’t know what comes over me, but I make the moronic decision to do something with my feelings. My feelings for Snow, that is.

I’ll write him a love letter.

While I was making my way to Mummer’s House, I’d realised something- I’d never really _said_ it. Or written it. 

_I love you, Simon Snow._

The sentiment only existed in myself- the only records of my love for him were longing stares and an aching heart. And maybe the reason for it was because I’d _wanted_ it that way. I’d never risked potentially being walked in on or overheard; never wanted to chance it. 

But, just once, I’d like to make it tangible, in a way. 

I’d never dare to send it, of course. It would be less for Snow himself and rather for me to realise my emotions. It sounds increasingly idiotic the more I think about it- and it probably is. Perhaps it’s all the peer pressure from this stupid holiday. It doesn’t matter, I’ve already set my mind to it.

I’m sitting at my desk in Snow and I’s room, a piece of paper laid out before me, pen in hand. I inhale.

_Dear Snow,_

_Valentine's Day is my least favourite of the holidays- it's always seemed to me that its only purpose was to guilt-trip couples into buying each other flowers or to encourage bored, lonely people (such as myself) to confess to their most beloved. It's an idiotic celebration._

_And yet, I find myself yearning to celebrate it- if only it meant you would allow me the pleasure of doing it with you._

My jaw clenches. Jesus Christ.

_What are your favourite flowers, Snow? If you’d let me, I’d give you marigolds. They remind me of you, in a way. Though I suppose almost everything does. I read somewhere that marigolds can symbolise jealousy._

_Am I jealous of you? You believe that I am. Of your father’s power over Watford. And of Agatha Wellbelove- you think I’d take her from you if I were given the chance. Maybe I would, just to see your reaction. But that’s all it is, Snow. It’s always been about you._

_You’re the sun, Simon._

_You’re so bright and it’s unfair how much my heart aches to be near you. To come close enough to feel the warmth of your skin. To trace every freckle and every mole on your face._

_They must be near impossible to count, but I would try. Would you allow me?_

I bite my lip. I have to remind myself that Snow will never read this. That it won’t change anything between us how pathetically in love with him I sound in this letter.

_I think marigolds may be my favourite flowers._

_I know you hate me, and I know that eventually, you’ll be the one to end my life. I won’t hurt you, Simon. I can glare at you and argue with you until my voice runs out, but I couldn’t hurt you. Truly hurt you. I could never._

_I’d let you win, over and over again. And I wouldn’t mind it._

_I’m already dead, Simon. I’m already a monster. You know that._

I sigh. He’s always known it. Oblivious git that he is.

_Do I disgust you?_

_This would probably be the worst Valentine’s Day gift you’d ever received if I were to ever give it to you._

_But, it’s honest, at least. Or perhaps I’m only honest because I know it won’t matter in the end._

_Either way, I needed it to be written down._

_I love you, Simon Snow. Crowley, I love you._

My whole body tenses. There it is. The truth. I’m looking at it.

_\- Baz._

I fold the paper up and place it in one of the school’s envelopes I’d usually use to write to my family. 

Grabbing my wand from my pocket, I say, “ **There’s nothing to see here.** ”

SIMON

“Baz?”

He looks my way immediately, setting his wand down on the desk. For a second I see fear in his eyes, which is quickly covered by what I’m more familiar with from him- calmness and indifference. 

I narrow my eyes. He’s up to something.

“Snow,” he says.

“What the fuck was that,” I approach him with my fists clenched. Of course he’d be ruining the day for me. I don’t know why I thought he’d leave me alone today- I should have known that Baz would somehow use Valentine’s Day to make a fool out of me.

Not if I can help it.

He smirks and stands up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he retorts, as if to mock me. I want to punch him.

He must have been watching when I was giving Agatha her gifts- I don’t doubt it was amusing for him. He loves to watch me make an idiot out of myself. Now he wants to make it even worse with whatever it is he’s planning to do.

“Tosser,” I mutter, going to close the door behind me (I’m glad I’d come in here just in time to hear Baz’ spell), but he stops me, stepping forward.

“Don’t. I have better things to do than to spend this wretched holiday stuck in a room with you,” he strides past me, brushing me off. I sneer at him. He ignores me and leaves the room, closing the door in my face.

I’d bet he’s going off to woo some girls- I wouldn’t be shocked if he had a line of them waiting to see him today. Maybe he has plans with someone. The thought of it makes me angrier. It’s wholly unfair that he’d get to have a nice day with someone whilst also ruining mine with his torment. 

My Valentine’s Day has been going atrociously. Nothing was going the way I’d planned for it to go; especially not with Agatha. I thought that we’d spend the day together, maybe have a picnic or something. Instead, I fucked up the whole thing by stuttering and blundering around her, saying all of the wrong things. And then, by the time she told me she didn’t want to spend the day with me, I was dying to leave.

I hoped I’d still have the chance to celebrate the holiday on my own (although that does sound a little depressing), but evidently, Baz prefers that I don’t for his own entertainment.

I get an idea.

It invades his privacy a little bit (okay, it invades his privacy _more_ than a little bit), but I’ve already convinced myself that it’s for my own safety that I cross some boundaries.

I know that whatever he was doing before I came into the room had to do with me. He wouldn’t have turned so quickly otherwise. Which makes it my business. Plus, with how scared he looked when he heard me (even if it was for just a second), it’s clear to me that it was important that I don’t find it.

I have the perfect spell for this (for once in my life). I’d heard him use ‘ **nothing to see here** ’ to get rid of the remnants of his plotting, so I’ll just use a simple finding spell to make it reappear. I’m glad he didn’t just stash his things somewhere in the room, or else it would take me hours to find them. He probably assumed that I’d never have thought to use magicks as a way to uncover his plans- he didn’t think I’d catch him in the act.

The only problem I usually have with the spell I want to use (‘ **It’s showtime** ’), as with any finding spell, is that you have to _know_ what it is you’re looking for. And you have to _really_ want to find it. I usually don’t care enough to be able to do the spell myself, and would normally ask Penny to do it for me. 

I don’t want to ask for her help today. I already know that she’d be annoyed with me if I told her that I planned to spend the rest of my Valentine’s Day going after Baz instead of spending time with Agatha (in reality, after embarrassing myself in front of her, I’d gone to the library to try and use my time wisely) (that didn’t last very long). 

Luckily, I’d caught a glimpse at what Baz had been holding before he’d spelled it away. A pen. Which means he must have been writing something down- his plots, most likely. I could only hope that it was enough to make the spell work.

I grab my wand from the inside of my blazer. Even though for most people it’s a basic and simple spell, I have to prep myself a little before casting it. To make sure it works properly, instead of somehow blowing something up.

I think about Baz (when do I not think about Baz?). Baz watching me make fool out of myself. Baz plotting against me. Baz going on a date with some girl while I mope around in a library. My cheeks redden.

“ **It’s showtime** ,” I say, and push as much of my magick into it as possible, while also trying not to go off.

For a moment, I think I must have not wanted it enough because nothing happens. I bite my lip.

And then, an envelope and pen appear and drop to the floor. My wand falls to the floor in surprise. 

_Shit. It worked. It actually worked._

_I didn’t expect for it to work._

I look around the room for a minute and at the door as if someone might catch me doing this. Then, my eyes wander to the envelope on the ground. I swallow.

I pick it up, taking the pen as well but returning it to Baz’ desk. Stare at the envelope quizically. It isn’t addressed to anyone, or at least it doesn’t seem to be. I purse my lips. It feels wrong to open it, but I do. 

My eyebrows go up in surprise. 

It’s a hand-written letter.

Addressed to _me._

For a moment I think it can’t have been Baz that wrote this, but the posh cursive letters tell me otherwise. It was definitely Baz who wrote this. 

‘ _Dear Snow,_

_Valentine's Day is my least favourite of the holidays- it's always seemed to me that its only purpose was to guilt-trip couples into buying each other flowers or to encourage bored, lonely people (such as myself) to confess to their most beloved. It's an idiotic celebration.’_

Yes, that sounds like him. I let out a soft laugh at how absurd it is. Of course I’d recognise it- it’s _Baz._ I know him better than anyone else. 

My breath catches when I read the next line.

_And yet, I find myself yearning to celebrate it- if only it meant you would allow me the pleasure of doing it with you._

What?

I scramble to read the rest of the letter. The more I do, the more my thoughts begin to muddle together. 

‘ _It’s always been about you._ ’ My heartbeat is speeding up so much I think I might combust. 

‘ _You’re the sun, Simon,_ ’ he’s written in his loopy handwriting. I have to sit down at the edge of my bed before I fall over. This has to be some sort of prank. A way to confuse me or bring my guard down. 

I continue to read. There’s more and more and more. My brain is exploding. 

Then, he practically admits to being a vampire. My eyebrows are so close together that my forehead begins to hurt. Baz would never give in to my accusations, no matter how many times I’ve tried to pry information from him or force him to confess. And yet, he’s written it down. In a letter with my name all over it.

‘ _Do I disgust you?_ ’ it reads. What? 

I find myself feeling less and less like this is a joke.

He’s serious. 

And, suddenly, ‘ _I love you, Simon Snow. Crowley, I love you.’_ It feels like my insides have been set on fire. 

Does Baz _love_ me? My stomach churns. 

This isn’t at all what I was expecting to find, and yet… I’m not _mad_ about it. 

Baz loves me. He _loves_ me. 

I don’t know what to do. I feel as if I’ve just caught him red-handed, in his most vulnerable state. Why didn’t he tell me?

The answer is obvious, and still, I wish he’d told me. I wish I would have known. For Christ’s sake, I thought he must have had some secret girlfriend or something. I had been so angry.

I need to confront him about this. 

Either this is an elaborate joke, or he means everything he wrote in the letter. 

_Fucking hell._

_This better not be a joke. It better not be._

_I don’t want it to be._

I surprise even myself. Though, I don’t give myself much time to think about it before I’ve shoved the letter back into its envelope and put it in one of the drawers of my bedside table. 

I have to wait until Baz gets back.

-

  
  


BAZ

After hunting rats in the catacombs, I feel a bit better about what happened earlier with Snow. 

I’ve reassured myself about a million times now that he didn’t see anything that I didn’t want him to see, and that I hid the letter fast enough that he wouldn’t be able to search for it. Even so, I can’t help but to feel uneasy as I walk back to Mummer’s House, the taste of blood still on the tip of my tongue.

I hesitate to open the door. 

When I do, I see Snow in his bed facing the other way. The lights are all off. He’s decided to go to sleep a bit early, it seems. I think that he’s sparing me, but then I take a second to listen to the sound of his breathing and I know he’s faking it.

Maybe I should take this as a small act of mercy from him. Finding him pretending to be asleep is much better than returning him accusing me of things left and right.

I decide that I’ll play along. I close the door behind me, trying not to make too much noise (as if it matters- we’re both wide awake). 

I stare at his back for a second and think about the letter I’d written to him.

Stupid.

I turn to my dresser and fetch my pyjamas, then head towards the bathroom to change. I don’t think I’d be able to stand being with Snow while he fakes sleep and I simply set in silence next to him, so I might as well try to fall asleep myself.

I change. I can tell by the way the mirror is slightly fogged at the edges that Snow had showered not too long ago. I try not to dwell on it too much. 

I brush my teeth, trying hard to get rid of the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I’m glad to see that my fangs have retracted. 

I finish, then open the bathroom door.

I come face to face with Simon Snow. 

Jesus Christ.

“What do you want, Snow?” I say, unamused. He narrows his eyes at me. I raise an eyebrow.

“We need to talk, Baz,” he replies. I roll my eyes and push him aside, going to sit on my bed. Of course even today we couldn’t just have a quiet night.

His nostrils are already flaring up. He actually as the audacity to sit in front of me on my bed. I glare at him. “I’m not plotting to kill you, Snow, now can you fuck off,” I snap. His face turns crimson. 

“No,” he says defiantly. 

I _could_ push him off the bed. I could. I don’t.

Then, he does get up and goes to his nightstand. I watch him. 

He opens the top drawer and reaches for something.

Something familiar.

My face goes pale (even with all of the blood I just drank). 

_It’s the letter I wrote._

I almost run right then and there. Run far, far away and never show my face again. 

Instead, I scowl at him. “What the fuck is that, Snow?” I mutter. His face actually _softens_ at my question, which is the opposite of my intentions. He makes his way back to my bed, sitting with his legs crossed across from me again. 

“Baz,” he starts. My fists clench.

“ _Snow._ Where the _bloody hell_ did you get this?” I say. I wonder if he can see my expression properly in the dark. I hope that he can’t. It would give too much away.

SIMON

All I see is the waves of his hair and the slightest amount of moonlight on the curves of his jaw. That’s enough for me.

“Is it true?” I whisper. His body stiffens. He crosses his legs like I am. There’s a moment of silence, and I think maybe he hadn’t heard me. So I say, “What you wrote in the letter… is it true, Baz?”

More silence. I can hardly see his jaw clenching.

I don’t want to repeat myself. I need to know, though. “Baz-”

“Are you trying to mock me?” he interrupts. His voice is cold and rigid. I knit my eyebrows together.

“What-?”

“Is this your way of laughing at how pathetic I am? What are you going to do, then, Snow? Turn me into the Mage so they’ll rip my fangs out and expel me-”

I kiss him. He stops talking. 

I don’t know what’s come over me, but I can’t stop myself. He melts into it. 

My hands go to his neck, and I pull him closer. He lets me. I kiss him harder. One of his hands goes to reach for my hair, and I smile into his lips. Baz is a lovely kisser. I never knew how much I wanted to know that.

His other hand is at the small of my back, brushing against a bit of exposed skin between my shirt and my joggers. 

_This is much better than fighting._

The kisses are slow and sloppy and perfect. There’s a nice warmth growing in the pit of my stomach. Somehow I think about how many things I’ve always wanted to do with Baz.

I touch his hair from the back of his neck, wrapping it around my finger. It’s soft, just like I’d always imagined it would be. 

His hand is now firmly placed under my shirt, rubbing small circles on my skin with his thumb. His fingers are cold, but I enjoy it. 

I pull away for a second, biting back a grin. “You didn’t answer my question, Baz,” I murmur, still close to his lips. So close that I can clearly see the confused frown tugging on his lips. 

“What?” he mutters, eyebrows close together. His hair’s a mess and his lips are slightly swollen. I wish I could take a picture.

“Is it true, Baz? Do you love me?” I say it shyly, in a way afraid that somehow I’d mistaken the situation. He’s looking into my eyes with uncertainty, searching for something perhaps. I try my hardest to give him what he wants. Reassurance? Comfort?

The room is quiet for a moment.

I hear him inhale. “Yes,” he breathes. A large grin breaks out on my face. That’s all I’ve wanted to hear. “Yes, I love you, Simon.”

I press our lips together again. 

  
Baz _loves_ me.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> If you enjoyed my writing, check out the fic I'm currently working on, "The Sun King", which is another (much angstier) snowbaz fic :)  
> Happy Valentine's Day!


End file.
